


with hushed voices and open hearts

by emptyenigma



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Siren!Smith, Siren!Sparkles, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyenigma/pseuds/emptyenigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smith and Sparkles are the only sirens in Bristol, and quite possibly the only magic creatures, too. Yet Sparkles had never imagined having a heart-to-heart with him on a rooftop at midnight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with hushed voices and open hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Really quick drabble, nothing particularly exciting; short, lots of errors probably.

The pair sat quietly on the rooftop. With a blue light washing over them, they appeared as nothing more than silhouettes on the buildings edge. Their outstretched wings cast beautiful patterns down onto the roof and caught the breeze, causing them to flutter softly. It was a nice night for a heart-to-heart chat about the week. But out of all his friends, Sparkles hadn’t expected to be having that chat with Smith. While he was the only other siren that Sparkles knew, they couldn’t have been more different. Smith abused his power in ways that made Sparkles peculiarly uncomfortable. Despite being a siren himself, he just couldn’t see the appeal of drawing in lovers with his voice only for them to die. Smith, on the other hand, had no problem with this. In fact, as far as Sparkles was aware, Smith had never managed to keep a companion alive for more than a few hours. He would have a lot to account for in the afterlife.

 

“You brought me up here in the freezing cold to talk so whenever you feel like opening up, go ahead.” Smith said briskly, hugging his shoulders. Sparkles couldn’t understand why he didn’t just… _wear_ more. Sure, it was warm out, but this far up he couldn’t have expected to stay warm in only a t-shirt. Especially not one of those ridiculous burgundy ones he never seemed to take off.

Feeling on the defensive side, he replied: “Yeah, alright. I said come up for a chat, I’m not expecting it to be one-sided.”

“Good luck getting anything out of me, mate,” He chuckled, “I’m not even sure I can talk for much longer; think my lungs might freeze up.”

Sparkles took a deep breath in. This was going to be a fun discussion.

 

“How many people have _you_ killed this week?”

Smith feigned a hurt look, “Oo, you went straight for the finishing blow, hm? Got to sort your tactics out mate.”

“That’s not an answer.”

There was a large vacant pause while Smith seemed to consider his options. He looked out at the cityscape and then at his feet, which were dangling off the roof’s edge.

“Seven.”

“One for every day? Very methodical.”

“Piss off, Sparks.” He spat. The sudden anger caused Sparkles to jump back somewhat and throw his hands up in defence. They fell back into silence. As they sat in quiet, Sparkles wondered if he was being unfair. It was in their blood after all. Just because he had the means to forget about his genes, to discard the idea of ‘kill or be killed’, it didn’t mean everyone could. Smith had more gall than he accounted for. If anyone managed to escape the grip of his song, he’d lose his life. He was committed, he’d give him that.

 

“What about you?” Smith asked softly.

Startled, Sparkles turned to face him. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what else to ask you.”

Another pause. “Why don’t you ask me about my week? Not about who died, or how many times I sang, nothing… siren related.”

Smith sighed deeply. “…How was your week.”

“Good. We recorded some more stuff. Just keytar, obviously, they aren’t ready for any more singing yet.” He found himself unable to stray from the ‘siren thing’; force of habit, he supposed.

“I don’t know how you can do that, Sparks.” Smith said, “I so much as open my mouth and they’re all over me. I haven’t had the chance to sing properly in so many years. I miss the band.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to open up?”

 

He looked over at Sparkles with a disdainful look in his eyes, and he shut his mouth.

“What did you do?”

“Met up with the guys. We went bowling. Sips’ been promising to take us all for weeks, when he came over to Bristol again. It was pretty fun actually. First time in months we’ve been able to relax without worrying about content…”

Smith carried on his little speech about the week, but Sparkles became distracted. There was so much fire in Smith’s eyes when he talked about the gang, acting so casual about it all but unable to disguise the happiness it brought him to be talking about them. It reminded Sparks that while Smith pretended to be some emotionless robot, he had feelings too, and he somehow always managed to get them hurt. Possibly because he was so good at aggravating people. Everyone except Sparkles.

“You know what I think?” He finally said, realising Smith had finished talking a while ago.

“What?”

 

“I think we should do this more often.”


End file.
